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I'm going to messy this week with the words, just splat them out, and hope for the best.

Words inside me
speak, lurk, bless, hurt,
harsh words, shiny words,
ultimate words, globby words.
Pollock-like,
I splash, drip, puddle words
against paper,
my household, plain words, nothing fancy
not really caring if anyone sees the art.

Words speak, whisper, shout, sing,
the reason, the what, the why.
My words-- insecure, broken, aching, fearful.
there isn't always a why.
The word storm holds me.
I know everything will rush on
before I've had a chance to catch my breath.
I track the signs --
portents scratched in the sidewalks,
on the sides of rail cars,
in the stars.
And me--
hardly able to understand anything,
a small time crook, a tin star,
an untended pot, an up-ended tub,

Have I marred the universe so much with my
torrent river of messed up metaphor
that I'm a side-show no-name,
dead end street and backside of nowhere?
And yet, inside the rot of me grows
a bean seed, its curling leaves doing
whatever they can to find the light.

Tomorrow is coming furious too fast.
Words shape, form, change
the world, the hearts, the future.
Me, a'praying my words cast out demons,
wilt magic,toss mountains,
reflect everlasting,
shine starlight,
lift spirits.
Me first. Write on.


This week's doodle, "Hippos, Rhinos, Ephalumps, Friends." I do love a really messy watercolor.



Remember: ©Molly Blaisdell, all rights reserved. If you want to use my cool doodles, ask permission first. It is so wrong to take people's doodles without permission!

My playlist hit this week --from President Obama's inauguration-- is John Williams' arrangement of "Air and Simple Gifts", Yo-yo Ma, Itzhak Perlman, and other playing. Enjoy.



The healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful. Bayard Taylor